


"To Have And To Hold"

by helenkacan



Category: Boston Legal
Genre: Angst and Humor, Awkward Conversations, Closeted Character, Community: lgbtfest, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Platonic Romance, Post-Series, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 12:53:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1983741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helenkacan/pseuds/helenkacan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt:  275, Boston Legal, Alan/Denny, Alan Shore taught himself to play the “I love women” game *so* well that he'd had himself fooled, but when he finally allowed himself to relax in Denny's company (something he hadn't done for decades and *never* in a romantic relationship) it was quite a revelation.  These details of his (gay or bi) sexuality is the one thing he's never shared with Denny; what (if any) tension does it place on their marriage?</p>
            </blockquote>





	"To Have And To Hold"

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: I actually started plotting out this story even before I read the prompts, I was so determined to write my first _Boston Legal_ fic. Because I love these two!  
>  Timeline: Takes place a couple of weeks after the series finale.

Alan looked up, startled, at Denny's explosive entrance into their new home, complete with slamming doors. There had been so many amazing changes since they'd been married. Alan loved the fact that they had sleepovers. Every night. And the drug that Denny had been granted the right to use, it was giving Denny hope. For Alan, anything that gave Denny hope gave him hope, too.

Alan smiled at his husband – how he loved to use that word – but received a scowl in return. Though living with Denny wasn't a picnic and, even with the drug, his moods were mercurial, he hadn't anticipated such a surly expression.

“Denny, what's wrong?”

Denny was almost in a daze, as if he didn't recognize him. His voice was halting, his manner puzzled. “They won't have sex with me. Me ... Denny Crane.”

Alan prompted him. “Who won't have sex with you, Denny?”

Denny shook his head. “Nobody. None of them. Anybody I've ever slept with, that I can remember sleeping with. They say that, now I'm married to you, they won't sleep with me. It's not fair, Alan. I'm ... Denny Crane. And I like sex. I should have sex, lots of it. I deserve sex!”

Alan permitted himself a small smile at Denny's manifesto. Denny and sex were an unmistakable combination. Well, with others, anyway.

Denny stopped pacing and pointed an accusing finger at Alan. “Wait. You don't seem to be particularly bothered. Are you getting sex when I'm not? If you are, can I sleep with her, too?”

Alan rubbed a hand over his face. He'd known he'd have to tell Denny eventually, but didn't think the subject would come up so soon in their marriage. “No, Denny, I'm not getting sex. The only one I'm sleeping with is you, in our huge bed, every night.”

Denny cocked an eyebrow, then frowned. “But _that's_ not sex.”

Alan opened his mouth, closed it and then opened it again. “No, it's not. But I'm grateful for what I do have with you and most of the time I can convince myself that it's enough.”

Denny shook his head. “I don't understand, and it's not just because of....” He made his customary mad-cow gesture, then slumped down onto the couch next to Alan. “Do you, do you want to have sex? With me?”

Alan couldn't answer that question yet. He could hear the incredulity in Denny's voice, tinged with discomfort. “I've wanted to have sex with a man, any man, for years. But I couldn't do it, not have that and be the kind of lawyer I'd always dreamed of being. I wanted to be a good lawyer, not a _gay_ lawyer. I didn't want to wonder if I won or lost a case because I was ... well, you know. The decisions had to be about the merits of each case. That's what I kept telling myself. So I tried to forget about being me. It worked for a while, losing myself in women. You know what that's like. Women really are delightful creatures. But they don't complete me, not the way you do. As long as I was with them, I had to hide, to pretend.”

Denny snorted. “It was a great act. You had me fooled.”

Alan nodded. “I had me fooled, too, most of the time. But I never had a chance to relax, to drop the act. As long as it was just sex, that was no problem. But when things got deeper, I panicked. I loved them, in my own way, but I couldn't let them see who I was on the inside. If I couldn't let them see the real me, I had to invent another me. Like someone who lived in a tacky hotel room. Eccentric. Someone they wouldn't want to get too involved with.”

Denny interrupted. “Thank God I got you out of there, finally.”

Alan placed his hand on top of Denny's. It was the first physical contact between them since Denny had come home. “Yes, Denny, thank you. Anyway, this would have all been moot if you hadn't proposed to me.”

Denny snatched his hand away, outraged. “So, what? Are you blaming this all on me? I just wanted to be married to you. I wanted us to share stuff. Money. Secrets. Decisions. I wasn't expecting to get involved in complications. Like not having sex. You know that's unnatural. At least for me ... Denny Crane. But,” he paused while mulling things over, “If you wanted me so badly, then why did it take you so long to accept my proposal?”

Alan sighed, his face softening with tenderness. “Denny, I've had sex without love for decades. I got used to it, to not expecting anything more. When you asked me to marry you, I couldn't believe it, that I could marry the man I love. At first I was stunned. And then I finally thought I could live with the idea of having love without sex. But I was being selfish; I didn't think about how it would affect you.”

Denny lifted his face, a curious spark in his eyes. “What would you have done if the judge had granted the injunction from the Gay and Lesbian League?”

Alan looked dejected. “I didn't want to think about that. Being gay was my truth, but I didn't want you to find out that way, not in a courtroom, in the process of an appeal.”

“But now I do know.”

“Yes, but it doesn't have to change anything.”

“Alan, don't kid yourself. It changes everything. Before, when we hugged, said we loved each other, that was just two straight guys being honest and open. Two guys who cared for each other. But you ... you want me _that_ way. I can't deal with that. Not right now. I'm already feeling frustrated; being around you isn't helping.”

Alan stuck his chin out. “What does that mean, Denny?”

Denny's voice was tired. He just wasn't up for a fight. “I think you'd better sleep in the other bedroom.”

Alan felt like a little lost boy. He hated to ask, “For how long?”

“I don't know. But I can't deal with you sleeping next to me, not tonight.”

“Denny, you know I wouldn't do anything. I don't want you to be frightened of me.”

Denny stood and faced Alan. “I'm not. But my mind can't convince my body that nothing's different. I'm sorry, Alan.”

When Denny moved away to retreat to the master bedroom, Alan whispered, “I'm sorry, too, Denny.”

It wasn't that late but Alan's nightly routine with Denny had been disrupted. Though he didn't really want or need a drink, he poured himself one and brought it back to the huge couch. He took a desperate gulp of the Scotch and let it burn down his throat before setting the glass on the coffee table and then sliding his hands over his face and through his hair.

How did he ever think this would have worked? Even though Alan had no real experience of being a gay man (except for the feelings of longing that he'd tamped down for so long), he still knew that it was considered an act of madness to fall in love with a straight man. And not just _any_ straight man, but Denny Crane, whose compulsion to chase anything in a skirt and/or named Shirley was legendary.

He still remembered that crazy, weird double wedding on the dock at Nimmo Bay. Yet, when the vows were said, their respective married status proclaimed, he'd been standing all alone, watching Denny dance with Shirley, all of them dancing, and he could do nothing but watch. Even though Denny and he eventually had _their_ dance on a balcony that no longer belonged to them, it still hurt.

Was this where his love of Denny had led him, to a life of regret and loneliness? But it wasn't his love, it was the revelation of his true feelings for Denny that could fuck everything up. And already had, considering the fact that he wasn't welcome in their bed.

Alan picked up the glass and tossed the rest of his drink down. He hated drinking alone. It was supposed to be a social thing, _his_ thing with Denny. But, tonight, he had no _thing_ with Denny, just a miserable feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Though he'd been banished to the second bedroom, Alan couldn't face spending the night there. So he dragged a warm blanket out of the ottoman. Sliding his feet from his shoes, stripping off his pants and shirt, he rolled himself in the blanket so that his skin wouldn't stick to the leather and settled into the otherwise luxurious couch, hoping for a merciful slide into unconsciousness, though he knew he didn't exactly deserve any mercy. He'd married Denny under false circumstances. If they'd been in a courtroom, he knew he would owe restitution to Denny. But how did one even begin to assess damages? Could a life together, their life, be mediated like a commodity? With his troubles settling over him like a shroud, Alan finally fell into a restless sleep.

When Alan next opened his eyes, it was late morning. He squinted against the sunlight that made everything too painfully bright. He thought it should have been a gloomy day to match his mood. Untangling his legs from the blanket, he stood up, stretching out the kinks. He wondered if Denny was still in bed. No. He didn't want to think about Denny in bed.

He found his answer in a note propped up against a carafe of juice next to a plate of cookies. Alan sighed. Denny ate cookies when he was stressed. That was just as much a message as the note. But he read it anyway.

> _Alan, when I came out of the bedroom this morning, I was surprised to find you asleep on the couch. Actually, I shouldn't have been, as I know we bought the bed in the spare room for an occasional guest and not for comfort. I need to spend some time alone this morning. But I've made a reservation for a late lunch at the Alcove. 2:00 p.m. Please, Alan, join me there.  
>  D._

Alan stared at the note even after he'd finished reading it. Denny hadn't signed off with _Love_ , just his initial. The Alcove was a private room at one of the finest restaurants in town. Of course, Denny could still get a reservation at the last moment, such was the power of his name. Alan hoped that this wasn't a part of Denny's grand scheme to break up with him in public. He knew that Denny had been shocked, but couldn't imagine that he could be that cruel. So Alan had to continue hoping that they could work things out, though there weren't necessarily any guidelines for a marriage such as theirs. He picked up the cellphone he'd dropped onto the coffee table last night and texted his answer.

After a glass of juice and a single cookie, he walked into the empty master bedroom. It looked as lonely as he felt. Denny had even made the bed, so it appeared as if nobody had slept in it. Alan resisted walking over to see if he could smell Denny on the pillow. Instead, he got out of his underwear and tossed it in the hamper.

The long, hot shower was blissful, but being in the bathroom alone wasn't. They'd gotten to the point of familiarity where one would be showering and the other brushing his teeth. Alan had never really thought about how much time they spent together, even in the little things, since they'd been married. It was all exaggerated, especially as the new owners of _Chang, Poole and Schmidt_ had extended the vacations of the _troublemakers_. For once, Alan didn't mind being away from work. He was married, enjoying life and a new home with Denny and still being paid. Well, he had been enjoying it, until last night. He looked down forlornly at his quiescent cock. Even it didn't want anything to do with him.

Alan finally turned off the water. He had to get dressed and ready for his _date_ with Denny. The Alcove was in one of the most prestigious restaurants and its patrons were never shabbily attired. This was Boston, after all, not Hollywood. He glanced in Denny's closet and could tell which suit Denny had worn out the door. So he dressed carefully. Even if he didn't exude confidence, his clothes would.

Though Alan was ten minutes early for lunch, Denny was already there. With a hesitant but open smile on his face. Okay, so maybe not a breakup lunch.

“Alan, you came?” Denny's voice, underneath the warmth, had a hint of surprise in it.

“Of course I did. I texted you.”

“Oh, you know I don't trust those electronic gadgets.”

“Well, I said I'd be here and so I am.”

Denny made a fussing motion. “So, sit already.”

Alan slid into the second wingback chair facing Denny. To his surprise, there seemed to be no hidden motive behind the invitation. They simply enjoyed the excellent food and wine that Denny had ordered for the both of them. After a while, Alan felt he could truly relax. Whether Denny was in denial or was just postponing an awkward discussion for later didn't matter. Denny apparently still wanted his company. It was a start.

When they'd finally finished their meal, Denny grasped Alan's hand. “Let's go for a swim when we get home.”

Alan nodded in cautious agreement. Though he disliked being in the gym with all of the hard bodies around him and Denny and cardio seemed to be mutually exclusive, both of them loved the water and liked to relax doing a few laps.

When they got in, it felt natural for Alan to follow Denny into the master bedroom where both men stripped out of their suits, changed into swim trunks, robes and sandals, before heading to the gym via the private elevator.

The pool was deserted at this time of day, so they didn't have to worry about straying into another swimmer's lane. Swimming, Alan had learned, was one thing they didn't feel the need to compete in. After completing a few laps, he looked over to see Denny, eyes closed, floating calmly on his back.

Alan thought that Denny resembled a small – but very important – island, with his puffed-out belly. Even though it had only been one night of separation, Alan missed the bulk, the reassuring solidity of Denny. Hugging Denny always made things better.

Alan cleared his mind and copied Denny's floating position. He felt secure enough to close his eyes as well. Unless someone came in to disturb them, they could drift, accompanied by the gentle sound of water rippling against the sides of the pool.

Alan was roused from his dreamless dream state when he felt a finger poking at his arm. He blinked his eyes open slowly to see Denny standing next to him, holding his hand out.

“Come on, champ. Let's go back upstairs.”

Alan floundered to regain his balance and his feet and clutched Denny's hand. Solid. Reassuring. Just ... Denny.

When they'd returned to their suite, they showered but didn't bother dressing, except for their robes and pajama pants. Alan offered to make a plate of sandwiches. As he meticulously crafted a stack of toasted and buttered bread, lettuce, cheese and meat, he glanced through the door that led to the deck. It wasn't as elegant as _their_ balcony had been, but it was theirs. It also had a nice view of the sky. Denny was already in ritual mode, leaning back in his chair with a cigar in hand.

They didn't often drink beer, but Alan decided the beer would be the most suitable accompaniment to the sandwiches; so he carried out a couple of bottles together with the full plate. Denny greeted him with a wave of the cigar. Alan lit his own and savored what it implied, what it had always implied. They sat in companionable silence until their cigars were mere stubs.

Alan passed over a beer and offered Denny a sandwich. He wasn't really hungry, not after their lunch, but it felt right to eat outdoors. To be able to think about what he was going to say to Denny. He still didn't know where Denny had gone that morning, wondered if Denny would eventually tell him.

When the plate was empty, Alan had to say something. “Denny, you know I'd never want to make you feel unhappy or frustrated. I'm sorry I didn't even think about sex. You were so excited about getting married that I got caught up in it.”

Denny interrupted him, “I know, Alan, I was caught up, too. But ... but, sex, Alan. I don't want to live without it.”

Alan sighed. He was about to be the best husband ever. “Denny, if all the women you know are turning you down, I'll buy you a hooker. I'll even buy you a couple of hookers.”

Denny's eyes were wide with excitement. “You'd do that for me, Alan? Really?”

Alan nodded firmly. “Yes, Denny. I don't want to see you miserable. I'd be happy to do that ... for you.”

Denny was all charming, wide smile, then his face became sombre. “But what about you, Alan? Can I buy you a hooker ... hustler ... whatever they're called?”

Alan shook his head, sadly. “Thank you, Denny, but that wouldn't work for me.”

Denny looked confused. “Why not? If I can, then why can't you?”

A shudder of pain dragged itself across Alan's face before he replied. “It's not the same because I'm a virgin when it comes to men. You're the only man I've ever touched, when we've hugged ... or danced. It just means too much to me. So I can't. Not with a stranger.” Alan's face was flushed, as if he was embarrassed to reveal the most vulnerable part of himself, even to his husband.

Denny's voice was calming, reassuring. “Hey, hey, Alan. It's okay. We'll work something out. Well, not with me, because I don't swing that way. But ... something.”

Alan wasn't sure if Denny knew what he was talking about, because he himself wasn't sure of anything. But he allowed himself the comfort of knowing that Denny was sympathetic, trying to be helpful. To help him.

Denny stood up, accompanied by creaking joints. “It's too cool to stay out here much longer. Why don't we move indoors in front of the fireplace?”

Alan looked puzzled. There were two fireplaces in the suite: one in the living room, the other in the master bedroom.

Denny seemed to acknowledge his hesitation. “Come on, follow me.”

Alan didn't bother picking up anything, just followed Denny back inside. He was relieved to see Denny heading back into the bedroom toward the sitting area where there was a sturdy loveseat in front of the gas fireplace. After flicking on the switch, Denny sank down onto the cushion that was more forgiving to his body than the patio chair had been. Alan joined him. 

The two sat in silence, observing the random flickers of flame. Alan realized that it was more than the fire that was making him feel warm. It was Denny. That Denny hadn't rejected him. Even if they weren't sleeping in the same bed. But they'd had a good time, a good day, together.

Alan noticed that Denny was starting to fidget.

Denny seemed almost apologetic. “Sorry, Alan, but I'm tired. Didn't get much sleep last night.”

Alan stiffened. His voice lacked emotion. “Oh, then I should go.”

Denny grabbed his arm before he had a chance to escape. “No, please, don't go. I just want to get some sleep.”

Alan seemed unconvinced. “With me?”

“Yes. It's no fun without our sleepovers.”

Alan's face melted. Because, really, sleepovers were the best thing.

As Denny wandered back into the living room to turn off the lights, Alan switched the fireplace off before heading into the ensuite to brush his teeth where Denny soon joined him.

Denny seemed more impatient and finished sooner, spitting out the last mouthful of water. When Alan returned to the bed, Denny was already settled on his preferred side, having discarded the robe in favor of a teeshirt.

Now that he had received the all-clear from Denny, Alan squared his shoulders as he dropped his robe and climbed into bed, not bothering to wear anything on top. Obviously, the issue had not been resolved fully, but Alan could live with the temporary reprieve and Denny's apparent glee that he could have sex. With someone else.

He glanced with fondness at Denny, whose face was scrunched up in concentration, as he tried to find the most comfortable position for sleep. He opened his arms wide. “Denny. You know your back gets out of whack when you don't sleep with me. So, get over here.”

Denny frowned briefly. “Remember, no funny stuff.”

Alan ripped off a mock salute. “On my word as a former member of the Coast Guard Auxiliary.”

Denny muttered something under his breath about damn sailors, but shifted his bulk over so that he could snuggle into Alan's arms. A roll of a shoulder, a twitch of an arm, and he was finally still.

Alan turned off the wall sconce above the headboard, then leaned over to press a gentle kiss to Denny's forehead.

Denny just grumbled in response.

Alan let his mind wander as the two settled down to sleep. He understood that this would never be a perfect marriage. But, then, he'd never entertained the possibility that he would ever marry. Not to a woman, in any case. And, when he was growing up, then getting his law degrees, there weren't any other options that didn't lead to furtive behavior, the risk of being caught and publicly shamed. Even though society had begun to be slightly more accepting by the time he'd passed the Bar, he was still aware of the stigma from previous decades.

He'd shelved his hopes of finding true love so that he could dedicate himself to the law. He'd met Denny because of that single-minded focus and determination. And they'd fallen in love – an entirely crazy concept, to be two womanizers (one apparently by instinct and the other for reasons of self-preservation) who loved each other fiercely. Possibly madly as well.

If both of them had to rely on their right or left hand (Alan hadn't yet figured out conclusively if handwriting and jacking off were usually accomplished with the same hand) to get some release, then Alan was sure they could figure out a schedule with the required privacy that would suit them both. Knowing Denny, probably some porn as well. And he'd already promised him a hooker or two.

If Alan faintly entertained the idea of undertaking the most unusual and dramatic legal battle of his life, aimed at convincing Denny that the Kinsey scale wasn't carved in stone and that Denny didn't have to clutch at it in desperation, aiming to prove that he was more than 100% heterosexual, that would be his little secret.

For now, Alan was more than content. He'd married for love. He loved Denny. Despite any odd misunderstandings, he knew Denny loved him.

They were partners in all things.

Well, _almost_ all things.

Alan tightened his hold on Denny, the most important thing in his life. He knew that would never change.

He slept, no longer worrying what the next day would bring.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine. However, it's not even as if TPTB wanted the show, axing it in a truncated fifth season. To which I say BOO!  
> Word Count: 3,956 (via my two sources)


End file.
